Shrimping On The St. Johns River, Florida

Begin anything with the end in mind.

In this case, the "ending" on my mind was our heirloom Selmo salad on a plate next to a pile of fresh river shrimp with a dish of my home made datil pepper sauce along for the ride.

But back to the beginning ...

I grew up in St. Augustine and spent lots of late summer nights shrimping on the St. Johns River. When I was a kid, shrimping was done at night, with a boat staked to two poles, hissing lanterns hung from the side of the boat, and lots of shrimp bait to toss in the river.

After staking, lighting lanterns, and baiting, you cast nets into the dark water until you were wore out or the washtub was full.

Shrimp bait consists of fish meal blended with whatever the shrimper thinks will attract shrimp.  Some folks added cat food, others rocksalt ... it's a very personal thing.

Somewhere between me leaving home for college, the National Park Service, and eventually life over hear on the wild coast of Florida,  ... shrimping switched from only at night to mostly a day time activity.

That does simplify things, but the shrimp tend to be deeper in the daytime. This fact required some modification of our traditional cast nets.

You see, in deep water, a cast net which opens into a circle as you throw it, may actually become a cone with a tiny base by the time it hits bottom.

The smaller your net coverage, the less shrimpossibilities.

So, clever beings that they are, the shrimpers added webbing to the net just above the leadline. This acts as a wing of sorts and keeps the net open longer as it sinks.

The last time I shrimped, in 2007, the shrimp were in 22 feet of water near Palatka and this webbing was vital.

This year, even in the daylight, they are holding shallow.

Not so vital.

You can see the webbing in my castnet below.

That's not me throwing it of course, I am taking the picture.

My friend Denny loading up for another cast, you can see the fruits of his last cast scattered about the deck.

We had found a "honey hole" thanks to a friendly boat that came zipping up to where we and about 10 other boats were casting and catching a few shrimp per cast.

They picked us out of all the other boats (we had a pleasant boat to boat conversation earlier in the morning) and excitedly told us of a spot up river where they had caught their limit in about 15 minutes.

The limit is a 5 gallon bucket.

We zipped up there immediately.

When we arrived, the shrimp were leaping out of the water as the boat slid to a stop.

Oh yes, this must be the place.

Each cast brought up 50 to 100 shrimp at a time.

In no time we had our limit and were done.

Sweet!

These shrimp moved into the river last spring as juveniles and they have been fattening all summer.

Soon, they will feel the pull of the ocean and the need to spawn.

Then, in a great bottom creeping flood that we can only imagine due to the murky tannin stained St. Johns water, they will move out of the mouth of the river and into the ocean.

Should a tropical storm come before that deadline and dump lots of fresh rain into the river, they will leave with the rushing flood.

Shrimpers know that a season that may stretch into October can be short circuited by a single tropical event.

They watch the Weather Channel during hurricane season ... and they fret.

Once in the ocean, the shrimp will run the gauntlet of shrimp boats, predatory fish, seabirds, and just about anything with a mouth.

It is their misfortune to be incredibly delicious.